you would not have been dear to me. But life, I know, belongs not all to love; habit and memory weave such nets around us that even passion cannot quite destroy: broken for a moment, they will grow again, as the ivy clasps the oak. My dear Oswald! let us give no epoch of life more than it requires. At this, it is essential to me that you leave me not. The dread of a sudden separation incessantly pursues me. You are a stranger here; no ties detain you: if once you go, all is over; nothing will be left to me of you, but my own grief. Nature, the arts, poetry, all that I have shared with you, lately, alas! with you alone, will speak no longer to my soul! I never wake without trembling. I ask the fair day if it has still a right to shine; if you, the sun of my being, are near me yet? Oswald, remove this fear, and I will not look beyond the present's sweet security."--"You know," replied he, "that no Englishman should renounce his country: war may recall me."--"O God!" she cried, "would you prepare my mind?" Her limbs quivered, as if at the approach of the most terrific danger. "If it be even so," she added, "take me with you--as your wife--your slave!" Then suddenly regaining her spirits, she continued: "Oswald, you will never depart without warning me? Never! will you? Listen! in no country is a criminal led to torture without being allowed some hours to collect his thoughts. It must not be by letter: you will come yourself, to tell me, to hear me, ere you fly? How! you hesitate to grant my prayer?" "No," returned he, "you wish it; and I swear, if my departure be necessary, I will apprise you of it, and that moment shall decide our fate." She left him. [1] I have allowed myself to borrow some passages from a discourse on death, which may be found in "The Course of Religious Morals," by M. Necker. Another work of his, "The Importance of Religious Opinions," had a more brilliant success, and is sometimes confused with this, which appeared when public interest was distracted by political events; but I dare affirm, that "The Course of Religious Morals" is my father's most eloquent production. No statesman, I believe, ever before composed volumes for the Christian pulpit; and this kind of writing, from a man who had so much to do with men, shows a knowledge of the human heart, and the indulgence that knowledge inspires. It appears that, in two respects, these Essays are completely original. A religious man is usually a recluse. Men of the world are seldom religious. Where, then, shall we find united such observation of life, and such elevation of soul, that looks beyond it? I should say, fearless of finding my opinion attributed to partiality, that this book is one of the first among those which console the feeling heart, and interest the reflective mind, on the great questions which are incessantly agitating them both. CHAPTER II.